


Puppy Training

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Backstory, Fic, Gen, Prompt Fic, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was El's idea to get a puppy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppy Training

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nagasvoice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagasvoice/gifts).



> Small spoilers for 2.11.

It was El's idea to get a puppy. Peter agreed in theory, but he was apprehensive. It was a lot of responsibility. What if he screwed up and made their dog weird and neurotic? What if they didn't see eye to eye, and Peter had to live with a dog that didn't like him? But El had always had dogs. There was a succession of them in the photos from her childhood and adolescence. She knew what she was doing. When Peter hinted at his concerns, she hugged him. "You'll be great, I promise."

Peter wasn't entirely convinced, but when it came down to it, if El wanted a puppy, he was going to get her the best puppy there was. 

  
*  


Satchmo was just a baby when he came home with them, the same week they moved into the house. Peter felt gigantic in comparison and about equally clumsy. 

The puppy had bonded with El the moment they laid eyes on each other, and he trotted around after her as they unpacked and settled in, with adoration shining in his liquid puppy eyes. At night, they put the crate on El's side of the bed so he wouldn't be lonely. 

Peter would have felt a little left out, but El didn't spend hours cuddling and coddling him like Peter expected. She was amused and matter-of-fact, indulgent but firm. If anything, it was Peter who got distracted when Satchmo pounced on packaging, chewed cables and licked the federal evidence that Peter had accidentally left lying around. General puppy stuff. But it wasn't all cuteness and Kodak moments, and some of his behavior was downright mystifying. 

El had a knack for interpreting his motivations in a way that made sense, as if she were dog-psychic. "He needs a nap," she said, when Satchmo had spent ten minutes growling at shadows. "I'm going to take him outside and then put him in his crate for a while."

"How can you tell?"

"It's just practice," she said. "Practice, attention and logic. You can do it too." She paused with Satchmo squirming under her arm and kissed Peter, wrinkling her nose in silent disapproval of his mustache. 

"I love you," he told her, deciding then and there to shave it off. He couldn't remember why he'd grown it in the first place.

  
*  


Peter was kneeling on a thick layer of newspaper on the kitchen floor, painting the cupboard doors, when he felt something cold and wet against his knee. It was Satchmo with a screwdriver in his mouth. "What?" said Peter, startled. "Hey, El!"

"Mmhmm?" El came in with a handful of letters. "What's up?"

"Didn't you put Satchmo into his crate?" Peter held his paint-brush and smeared hands away from the puppy. "I can't pick him up like this."

Satchmo dropped the screwdriver and barked playfully, his tail going like a weedwhacker. He danced back a few paces, then forward again, nudging the screwdriver toward Peter.

"Quiet, Satch," said El, firm but patient. "He must have escaped again." She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "We might need to use wire to keep the latch closed." She put down the letters and grabbed the camera from the counter, apparently compelled to capture the occasion for posterity.

"He's a rogue puppy," said Peter. "What's so funny? He was chewing my screwdriver."

"But you know he means well," said El. "He's trying to do things right when he helps you."

"No," said Peter. "He's doing this on purpose."

El grinned. "Honey, I don't think our puppy escaped from his crate and came to find you just so you could take him back to his crate."

"No," said Peter. "He did it so _you_ could take him back to his crate. Sneaky rascal."

  
*  


They both took Satchmo to dog training classes, but Peter usually stood back and watched, trying to figure Satchmo out. Peter was good at paper trails, at digging and making connections, putting the pieces together to intuit the bigger picture. It was easy when the clues were accounts and numbers. But he studied Satchmo, the way El worked with him, and slowly he learned to detect the clues, to intuit and interpret motives and see what was right in front of him.

  
*  


The first time Peter took Satchmo for a walk by himself, Satchmo somehow slipped his collar while Peter was staring into space trying to figure out a case he was working. He was only distracted a couple of seconds—a minute, tops—but by the time he noticed, Satchmo was nowhere to be found. Peter scoured the park, the streets to no avail. Frantic, he hurried home to summon reinforcements. He didn't have anyone reporting to him yet, but he could probably get a couple of interns from the Bureau to help search. He hurried inside and stopped dead. "You're in the house," he said to the unrepentant dog, who was lying on the furniture. "You're in the house, on the couch! Get down."

Satchmo whined and jumped down. 

El walked in, carrying a cup of coffee. "Hey, hon, did you just get back?"

Peter slumped against the wall and stole her coffee so he could take a gulp, even though she didn't use sweetener and it was bitter and strong. Relief warred with indignation, but in the end, relief won. 

  
*  


Satchmo was nearly seven months old when El's mom got pneumonia, and El went to stay with her folks for a month to help out while Helena recuperated. Satchmo missed El and acted out, barking at anything that moved and chewing everything within reach. He had a growth spurt too, seeming to double in size in the space of a week, and he kept knocking into furniture as he tore around the place. Peter forced himself to be patient, like El would be: firm, kind and understanding. After four days, he was tearing his hair out, ready to bark and howl even louder than the dog.

"Why did we get a puppy again?" Peter asked El during their nightly phone call. Nothing could be more frustrating and futile than trying to train a puppy!

"He's a teenager," said El. "He's testing boundaries, figuring stuff out. Just keep doing what you're doing, and you'll both be fine."

Peter hung up and went downstairs. He got a beer and went into the living room where, miracle of miracles, Satchmo was lying quietly on his mat, chewing something that was actually an official, authorized dog toy. Peter gave him a treat and sat on the floor next to him. "Listen, we need to talk."

Satchmo stopped chewing and looked at him, his ears coming forward curiously. 

"I know you miss El, but you don't have to worry about her," Peter told him. "She's safe. She'll be home in a few weeks." He knew the dog couldn't really understand him, but maybe the information would get through somehow, if he tried hard enough. Anyway, it was a comforting to say it out loud, a reminder to himself as well as the dog. "In the meantime, it's just you and me, buddy, and we're going to make this work." Peter drank his beer and laid down the law, like he was negotiating with an actual person. A couple of times Satchmo blinked his big brown eyes, and Peter stopped and thought about what he was saying. After all, he might be the boss here, but it wasn't a partnership if you weren't willing to negotiate. In the end, against all odds and defying all logic, they seemed to come to an understanding.

Peter closed his eyes tiredly and thought about what to have for dinner, and there was a soft shuffling sound, and a second later, a small wet doggy tongue was licking his hand, where it curled around the condensation-beaded beer bottle. 

Peter looked down at Satch and smiled. "I guess that means we've got a deal."

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "But you know he means well, he's trying to do things right when he helps you!"


End file.
